


Rolling Tides

by Megpie71



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-31
Updated: 2004-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megpie71/pseuds/Megpie71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're comfortable with each other now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rolling Tides

They're comfortable with each other now. At first, it had been awkward, fumbling. Teeth clashing, elbows in the wrong places, and the moment where “ah!” changed to “oops!” (or even “ow!”) all-too-regular. As with everything else, learning the hows and whys of a bed-partner takes time and practice.

Well, God knew he'd the practice. She'd been new to the whole proceedings, come to them late and ill-educated. The first time had been nothing to brag of. He still recalls with a wince the results of a carelessly placed twitch of her knee; she didn't appear to enjoy things much either.

Now, although he's not kept count of their meetings (infrequent as they are), the pair of them have relaxed. Instead of the nervous tension of will-I-get-this-wrong, there is fond laughter. She giggles and squeals as he finds the ticklish places across her stomach, and retaliates by grabbing at the backs of his knees and the crooks of his elbows. A mock-battle commences: he seeks to overpower her and she seeks to level him. Flesh touches flesh, kisses are exchanged, the tides of passion start to build. 

He nibbles his way down her neck, enjoying the gasps it draws from her. She looks at him below half-closed eyelids before leaning over and biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, bringing a gasped groan of his own in reply. He tries to move down to her breasts, but she chuckles low in her throat and rolls over onto her stomach. Thwarted, he brushes the dark curls of her hair from her shoulders and kisses his way down her spine. She wriggles deliciously beneath him, rolling her hips like the deck of a ship in a stom. He grins, unseen, and bites at the intersection of waist and buttock. She squeaks, nearly throwing him to the floor, she rolls so suddenly. He grabs at her wrists, pinning them back down to the bed.

“Now that's cheatin',” she breathes, caught between lust and laughter.

“Pirate!” he replies, setting to work on first one nipple with lips and tongue, then the other.

“Bastard!” is all she gasps, before working one hand free of his grasp to start manipulating his own nipples, stroke whichever bit of flesh is within her reach. He frees her other hand as well, using one to stimulate the breast his mouth is not currently working on, while the other creeps down her belly.

Wetness welcomes him, and he gently strokes the little nubbin he finds at the foremost juncture of her quim. She draws in a breath and bring his mouth up to her own. Her legs wrap around him, as do her arms.

Then they roll, and she has him trapped beneath her as she takes matters into her own hands, quite literally. She watches his face as she lowers herself down onto him, groaning her own enjoyment of the delicious fullness it provides her. He reaches a hand down to where he can see her quim, holding him, swallowing him to the root, and she joins her hand to his, placing it, showing the rhythm. Then together they start to move, and as he watches, she leans forward to cover his body with her own, catch his mouth in a hectic kiss, and he seizes his moment. They roll again, and now he is atop her, and it is his hips setting the pace.

All is serious for a minute or so, all intensity and deep kisses and hard thrusting and - 

“Whoops!” She starts to giggle. He stops, slumps forward a moment and mutters. They part for a second, as he takes himself in hand and lines things up to enter her once more.

“Down a wee bit, love,” she says. “Else ye'll be aimin' f'r th' wrong hole.”

“Hush, woman,” he mock-growls, “or I'll aim for y'r other hole in truth!”

She laughs, although the laugh is cut off by something between a gasp and a sigh as he enters her body once more. She reaches up, draws his mouth down to hers. Tongues tangle, her hands slide into the dark strands of his hair, the edge of a ring snagging on a bead or catching in a tangle. He grimaces, but doesn't stop the motion of his body in hers.

Her eyes have closed now, and he grins, predatory. He knows what it means when she closes her eyes, and he bends forward to whisper to her, knowing it will hasten the arrival of her climactic moment.

“C'mon love; y' can feel it, can't you? You're close, and so am I, Maggie-love. Can you feel me, sweetheart?”

She's gasping now, whimpering her pleasure, reaching down with both hands and heels to draw him further into her.

“God, you're so tight, so wet,” he mutters, a near-basso rumble in the crook of her neck, not quite in her ear now. “Bloody hell, woman, you are so fucking wonderful. Come on love, just a bit more. Come on, closer. Oh yes, that's right, yes, squeeze me like that, darling! Oh God, yes, I'm so close!”

Her whimpers have gained in volume and risen in pitch as she hovers on the edge of the precipice. She enjoys this wonderful, terrible moment almost too much – the dancing on the cliff-edge, the fleeing from cannon, the near-frantic joy of sword battle – all of these pale before the few wonderful moments as she hovers between agony and bliss, trapped in the arms of the man who knows her best. Then all of a sudden, the cliff-edge within her gives way, and she is tumbling into bliss, screaming all the way down.

Above her, she can hear his strangled grunt, as he too finds that completion, joins her in the overloaded wonder.

Together, they find their way back. He isn't smirking for once, his normally-mobile face slackened. She has relaxed, and he sees once more the smile he can bring to her face at these times. A small smile, contented. Calm, like the sea after the storm.

As always, he reaches over to hold her to him, enjoying the warmth of her body next to his. There's a patch of cold wetness on the bedsheets beneath them, and soon a mock-fight will break out as they each attempt to trick the other into having to sleep on it. Sometimes this leads to the enlargement of the damp patch, or to the creation of a matching one. Perhaps this will be one of those times. But for now, they embrace each other, enjoying the calm after the tempest.


End file.
